


A Little Green

by DustToDust



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd thought a simple friendship had been fine, and hadn't even thought of more until he saw someone else getting far too familiar with Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Green

Cullen is late for their standing game and that immediately worries Dorian. The man might not be punctual. His position tends to delay him a lot, but he's always aware of the time. Even if it's a few moments he will send a runner to relay his regrets and give a time estimate. One he always follows because these little games are one of the few breaks the man allows himself, and the entirety of the Inquisition knows it. Which is why they are so rarely interrupted.

Dorian waits a while longer before getting up. No runner appears and he has half a mind to return to the library, but his traitorous feet drag him elsewhere. Cullen is a grown man but it'll take a stronger man than Dorian not feel concerned about his wellbeing.

Finding the Commander is rather simple. He's in the main hall near Varric's desk. His usual route to meet, but it's not Varric that is occupying him.

The man has a head of black curly hair and his clothing bears the telltale grime that most of the pilgrims have by the time they reach Skyhold. There's a bow across his back but he doesn't seem to be wearing any colors. A pilgrim or a new recruit?

Dorian winds through the people to find out. A quip about recruitment in his tongue when the stranger throws back his head and laughs. Loud and echoing in the hall. Enough to get more than a few disdainful sniffs but it's the matching laugh from Cullen that is the real surprise.

Cullen chuckles or does a rather adorable snorting laugh when he's amused by something. He smiles and smirks at his own jokes. Dorian has seen the range of amusement with the Commander but he's never seen this. Cullen's full laugh is deep and his eyes crinkle when he grins wide enough to show off his ridiculously straight teeth. Every worry and responsibility that so often weighs him down just seems to fly away with it.

Dorian's not the only one noticing the difference. More than a few heads turn to note it, and Dorian feels a flash of irritation at the knowledge there will soon be another spate of Orlesian love letters to divert.

An irritation that morphs rather quickly when the dark haired man wraps an arm around Cullen in a hug that's well beyond being merely friendly. Even if Dorian were to suppose the two are old acquaintances. The touch lingers on both ends and Cullen doesn't fully let go when they break apart. The affection in his eyes is bright and blatantly obvious to anyone.

It's a rather solid punch to the gut and Dorian tries not grimace as he changes trajectory. Aiming for the door beside them and the escape it offers from the surge that is his irritation turning to jealousy.

He'd thought it rather clear that Cullen wasn't looking for anything more than friendship, and that his tastes --unstated as they were-- went more towards the feminine than masculine. Dorian was fine with that. Really. He enjoyed the man's friendship and wasn't looking for the messy tangle of emotions that relationships entailed.

If he'd wondered and imagined otherwise? Well, what man wouldn't? It wasn't likely that the privacy of his own thoughts --the idle ones mind you-- were going to be aired out for all to see. Clearly, he was rather stupid to even go that far, because Dorian's now fighting the urge to punch the clingy bastard in the face for touching his Cullen.

His. Hah. He probably doesn't have nearly enough bottles in his area to get through the next hour.

He almost makes a clean escape before Cullen spots him and calls his name. "I am sorry, Dorian. I was on my way but-"

"No, don't apologize," Dorian stops reluctantly but makes sure he's wearing his most charming smile when he turns. A hard feat when Cullen steers the man --handsome in that rough way Fereldens seem to have-- over with the arm still around him. Dorian gives them both a stiff nod. "Your friend has just arrived. I quite understand."

"Dorian-" Cullen starts with a frown. Sensing something off no doubt with that damnable ease that seems highly selective in making an appearance.

"Dorian?" The man interrupts and his smile turns into a smirk that Dorian doesn't like at all. His eyes gleam with mischief as he turns to face Cullen. "Oh, is _this_ the famous Lord Pavus you always write about?"

"Bran, _no_ ," Cullen blanches and normally Dorian would enjoy the fumbling display, but the slyness in this Bran's tone sets his teeth on edge. There's also a sick little twist in his gut at the thought of what exactly Cullen's been writing to elicit that response.

He'd thought they were friends. The thought is small and quiet; hurting far more than it has any right to before he can banish it.

Bran detaches himself from Cullen and offers his hand with a wide grin and laugh. "Branson Rutherford, my Lord. Mia's going to be jealous I managed to meet you first. After what my brother has wri-"

"Thank you, Bran," Cullen cuts in with a rather horrified look as he grabs the man by the back of his shirt and physically hauls him backward. "I think we've taken up enough of Lord Pavus' time."

"Oh, it's Lord Pavus again?" Branson goes with the pull easily but twists away at the last second. "What happened to calling him Dorian?"

"That's not," Cullen growls a bit and looks ready to toss Branson into the fireplace as they bicker.

Dorian can hardly hear them over the sudden wave of combined realization and relief that shouldn't be as strong as it is. Brothers. He can see it now that he's not fighting back jealousy. It's in the line of their jaws and shoulders. The riot of hair that Cullen tamed far better than Branson, and the crooked tilt to the dark haired man's smirk that's the same angle as the one he's been admiring on Cullen for far too long.

Maybe it's also in the way they both set their feet as they square off but Dorian thinks they've made enough of a scenes as it is. He can _feel_ the building rumors. No need to add a fist fight to it.

The brothers are of similar height and build so it takes little enough effort to grab them both by an elbow to lead them to relative privacy. Branson stumbles, unused to being led this way unlike Cullen, but follows along gamely enough.

"Alright, Dorian says only after they've blown past an entirely too amused looking Solas and are out on the bridge leading to Cullen's office." Now, what exactly has your brother been saying behind my back?

The question doesn't seem as likely to lead to painful answers now and Dorian rather likes the grin that spreads across the younger Rutherford's face. Cullen groans and storms away muttering vehemently about meddling siblings, and Dorian just _knows_ he's in for an exciting conversation. Perhaps several if the infamous Mia Rutherford is present as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for some guy being touchy feely with Cullen, Dorian getting jealous, and the man turns out to be a sibling.


End file.
